Microwave
by Gun toten Girly
Summary: AU -Oneshot- Being an only child has led Toph to a parent's worst nightmare: run away. But what happens when she meets a certain somebody that convinces her to go home? -Tokka- This is a very special gift for a close friend of mine. Hope you all like it!


**Authoress Note: **Yes, yes. Another oneshot. But this one is very special!

My bestest friend in the world (Super Reader) is a year older today. Yes, today is her 14th birthday! :claps:

So in honor of her birthday, and her incredible obsession with Avatar, I have churned together a oneshot that I hope she likes.

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own Avatar or any other mentioned products in this fanfiction. All rights reserved. Copy write not intended.

Don't forget to say Happy Birthday if you review!

Wuvz u, Lids!

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_**Microwave**_

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I stood beside the chain link fence, watching some boy's break-dance in the middle of the floor. It was a dark, dreary night, street lamps glowing faintly from their burnt out bulbs and the sidewalks a pitch black in the near distance. Many would try to avoid walking out at this time of night—not finding it safe enough to wander aimlessly. They were right; the streets of Los Angeles were extremely dangerous in the dead of night. Gangs found this the perfect time to settle grudges, thieves took the desolate timing to nab anything they could, and at least five people were killed daily.

So what was I doing here? Simple, I was running away. Los Angeles was not, by any means, my home. In fact, it was as far away from my home environment as I could get—which is exactly why I came here.

My parents were like saints: ordering servants around, demanding the best essentials, and making sure I was wrapped in as many pillows as possible so I wouldn't get hurt.

I hated it. I hated being spoiled, treated like I was the most precious possession in the world, spoken to like I was the Queen of England. I felt like a martyr, being preyed upon by the dullness and simplest of lives and being twisted into the perfect little girl. If only my parents knew that I was as far from their little girl as anyone had any right to be.

The way these boys moved—it was almost elegant. The way their body would wind and curl, then suddenly spring into another dance move was incredible. The transitions were perfect, gliding smoothly from one phase to another. My legs itched to dance along with them, but I was, against my better judgment, afraid. Stories from Los Angeles have been over exaggerated, told many times throughout a string of people that it eventually became ridiculous to listen to. But one thing remained the same throughout these impossible tales.

Someone—usually an innocent—would die.

So I hung back, admiring their work as they gave it all they got. In some ways, it was stupid how they would show off to others. I could tell they only wanted the attention it brought. But one of the boys, I noticed, was standing amongst the crowd. His facial expression was one that a college student would look like if they were studying—eyes open wide, skeptical, and growing ever so seemingly uncomfortable from the proximity the crowd of girls were.

Then I realized he was watching me. His dark brow was furrowed as he weaved his way through the crowd of girls, all of them _ooh_ing and _aw_ing as he swerved past them. I remained by the fence, not moving an inch. If this guy wanted to talk to me, well, he better have a good reason for disturbing my enjoyable first trip down to LA.

I focused my attention back on the dancers, getting absorbed into the hardcore music pounding into the large skate park. Before I knew it, a figure cast a shadow across my body. It was rather large, but lanky. I looked beside me to give whoever it was a piece of my mind.

The words fizzled and died out on my lips.

A teenager—not a boy but yet not a man—was staring cryptically down at me; his dark blue eyes boring a hole into my green. Dark brown hair spiked upward, giving a perfect view of his sharp facial features. His skin was a rich chestnut and his body was lean and muscular.

"I've never seen you before," I didn't miss how his voice sounded accusing, almost like it was my fault that he hadn't seen me before. His voice was deep and strong, matching his physic perfectly.

"What makes you think that?" I snapped.

His deep blue eyes blinked; I'm guessing he was a little more than shocked. I must've been the first girl he's ever come across that didn't swoon endlessly over him, though I understood why they would. He was gorgeous, but cocky. Definitely over confident.

"I know a lot of people. You're new," He turned his attention back to his fellow dancers, eyebrow raised and watching me from the corner of his eye.

"New?" I scoffed. "I'm not _new_, just visiting." I folded my arms over my chest and leaned back on the chain link fence. The crisscross patterns etched themselves through the thin material of my jacket, their sharp edges matching the glares I was receiving from the large crowd of girls. I pointedly ignored them and watched on.

This boy seemed amused from the attention I was getting. "How come you're not one of them?" His head nodded in the direction of the girls, causing a few to sigh and bat their eyelashes. Disgusting.

"One of _them_? I don't think so. I'm just here to watch, not to become a bimbo." I rolled my eyes, sneering the sentence out of my mouth. This boy had better leave before he figured out what he got himself into.

He didn't leave; instead he chuckled and leaned against the fence too. A few dancers looked around, seeming to search for something. Once their eyes locked with his, they quickly darted to mine. I didn't like their reaction: raised eyebrows, mouth agape or whistling.

I wasn't a piece of meat.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Most of the girls are sluts and act stupid. I hate it; you can't find one girl that actually knows what she's doing." His deep voice was genuine and deep, reverberating through my spine and causing my eyebrows to shoot upwards.

"Wow," I said. I didn't know that girls here could be basically considered professional strip dancers. If it were possible, my detestation for them grew. What sick people.

It was silent for a while. Occasionally we would both grimace or suck in a breath through our teeth whenever a wannabe dancer would crash. It looked painful, but I bet it was completely worth it. Getting to feel everything out of your control for just a split second must be wondrous.

"What's your name?" His voice scared me, and for a moment I started. I could tell this was a question he had been mulling over when to ask for a long time now—the question held a deep sense of curiosity and need. I cleared my throat.

"Toph."

"Toph?" He had an eyebrow raised; now giving me his undivided attention.

"Is there a problem?" I shot back. How insulting, acting as if my name was something entirely beside itself. Though, I had to admit, my name was rather weird and uncommon.

"No, no," he said quickly, finally catching onto my personality, "I didn't know you were Asian. You don't look it."

I smiled, finally someone who was honest. Other people would say _Oh, what a pretty name,_ or _You look like a 'Toph'_. No, this guy was completely honest, pointing out the obvious facts and shoving them right in my face.

"What about you?" I asked. I still didn't know his name, and yet he was accusing _me_ of having a weird name.

He mumbled something I couldn't hear. It sounded like 'saw' but I couldn't quite grasp it.

"What?" I couldn't believe this guy would be embarrassed about his name. Wasn't he supposed to be one of those arrogant, proud people that don't care what other people think? I'm starting to wonder if the world got our roles backwards.

"Sokka," he said louder.

"Sokka?"

"Yes, is there a problem?" His words echoed my own, and I had to fight a smile. The grimace on his face and the furrow of his brow made me guess that he wasn't fond of the name his parents had given him. Or, at least that's what I think they gave them.

"Are you pulling my leg?" Seriously, there is no way this guy's name rhymes with 'sock'.

"Why, you jealous?" His eyebrows wiggled in my direction and I poked him in the side—hard. It could have been considered a punch, but that was relatively soft when compared to _my_ punches.

"Yeah, 'cause I seriously want a name that has 'Sock' in it," I rolled my eyes. "So c'mon, I'm serious. Tell me your real name and not what your 'homies' call you."

He just stared at me like I was crazy. Maybe I was, but I couldn't be for sure. Who would know if they're crazy or not? "My name is Sokka," he spoke the words slowly, as if I was mentally incapable of understanding. Why did he want me to know his name so badly?

"I'm not retarded; you don't have to speak like I'm a băobèi," confusing him with my Mandarin would be funny to watch. His eyes narrowed at me—obviously not liking the tone of my voice—but at the same time his eyebrows rose.

"Băobèi?"

"Yup, do you not know what it means?" I smirked at him, waiting for him to announce how un-bilingual he was. Sokka smiled too.

"Well, it sounds an awful lot like 'baby', but I'm not entirely sure." I was impressed, my facial expression showed it. Sokka glanced down at my lips—which were now in the shape of smile—before he looked back up at me.

"Congratulations, you understand Mandarin." I gave him a pat on the shoulder before my attention was 'occupied' by the street dancers again. A distinct, recognizable rhythm echoed around the skate ramps and into our ears. The beat was soft, but fierce, proving a point that the singer needed to be told.

_"Hey little mama,_

_Ooh you a stunner,_

_Hot little figure,_

_Yes you a winner and,_

_I'm so glad to be yours._

_You're a class all your own and,_

_Ooh little cutey,_

_When you talk to me,_

_I swear the whole world stops,_

_You're my sweetheart and,_

_I'm so glad that you're mine._

_You are one of a kind and,_

_You mean to me,_

_What,_

_I mean to you and,_

_Together baby there is nothin' we won't do..."_

We both looked on, staring contently at the dancers. Their bravado and temptation at the lyrics made me want to gag, but I couldn't help but agree with them. The song's words were true and made my heart throb. This is what someone in love would sound like, wanting to give up anything in the world to be with that special someone. They would want to give whoever it was their entire heart and soul, trusting them not to use it wrongly.

My body unintentionally swayed with the speaker's voice, bouncing along to the words and occasionally mouthing the chorus lines. I didn't feel Sokka next to me anymore, just the voice of the singer in my head and wrapping around my pounding heart.

When the song ended, I sighed and stood from my place on the fence. I needed to get out of here, lest a fight would surely break out. I didn't need a squabble appearing at my house and my parents getting hurt. The light from the dancing circle gently emanated to where I was standing.

I turned back to Sokka, who was watching me with anxious eyes. The blue was encasing, reminding me vaguely of being on a boat in the middle of the ocean, the dark waters and the black sky smearing together to create an endless amount of space.

"Well, this is it, see ya later," I waved half-heartedly to the mysterious boy and took a step away from the gate. A large, warm hand rested on my shoulder, and I suddenly realized how small I was compared to this guy. My head instinctively looked behind me, my shoulder jerking away from his touch.

"Wait," he took a deep breath through his nose. Sokka's eyes danced around in their sockets as he gazed into mine, never once did they roam anywhere else that a normal boy's eyes would. My shoulder was tingling lightly from his touch, but I casually brushed it off.

"It's not safe for a girl to be on the streets at night. Especially when there's a party like this," his chin gestured towards the grouping, and I had to admit a little bit of fear squeezed my heart. I looked back into his eyes, daring him to continue.

"And? What do you want me to do? I have to get back home, and, no offence, I don't want to stay here any more." He rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I could kinda tell. Here, tell me where you live and I'll drive you home." He started to walk away, but turned back around when he noticed I wasn't following. My hands were crossed on my chest, and my knees were bent, ready to run for my life if need be. Sokka didn't look like the kind of guy that would take advantage of a woman, but that's how they all look don't they?

"And why would I get into a car with a total stranger?"

My accusation startled him, but I wasn't about to take it back. Who did he think he was, demanding that I get in a _car_ with him when I barely knew him?

"Well, technically, we're not strangers. I know your name, you know mine. So, logically, we're acquaintances."

I held my ground. He knew exactly what I was talking about; I could see it in his eyes. There was something in his expression, the way his eyes were wide and his mouth curving into a goofy grin. He didn't want to take me home, he wanted to spend more time with me—no matter how little it was. He was genuine, a pure soul. He just wanted to make sure I got home safely.

Why?

Sokka sighed and made his way back over to me. In three quick strides he was standing in front of me, looking down into my eyes. "I—I dunno. There's just something about you... Please," he looked me straight in the eye, and I suddenly understood how difficult it must be to say this to a complete stranger, let alone one who was stubborn like me. "I need to make sure you get home okay."

I ran through the possibilities in my head. Worst case scenario, Sokka ends up being a serial killer and kills me. Though there was much greater worst case scenarios than this one, I couldn't bring myself to think of them. But they were important, so I had to. It's a shame this was how a woman had to look at things nowadays. They had to be wary of any person they come across.

My heart stuttered for reasons unbeknownst to me when I really looked at him. This one decision could change my life forever, whether for the good or bad. The golden glow of the lamps from the dance circle threw his features into shadow, and I got to see exactly how honest he was.

Taking a shaky breath, I closed my eyes. My heart pounded from fear—a feeling I was most unused to experiencing—but at the same time, out of anticipation. I was startled to figure out that I also wanted to climb into the car with him.

"Just trust me," he whispered. I opened my eyes and steeled myself. No need for him to see the turmoil that I was going through.

"Okay, lead the way," I exhaled. What had I done?

Sokka's face broke out into a huge grin. His eyes sparkled with elation that had nothing to do with the brightness of the lamps twenty-five or so feet away. I was appalled to find that my own face was smiling timidly.

I had put my life into the hands of this stranger for one night. Sokka bowed and his arm glided outwards beside him. "This way, ma'am."

"Yeah, yeah," my mood had fouled from my stupid decision. Was it too late to back out?

I looked at the sidewalk on the other side of the fence. It was a dark gray, almost a blue-ish color. The light from the dancers seemingly stopped abruptly at the chain link fence, making the dew-engraved grass sparkle like small balls of fire.

It wouldn't be a good idea to pass up this offer. Who knows what's out there? At least I would have company, I thought glumly. Sokka was right behind me, voicing directions around the mounds of child equipment that littered the park. Whenever someone would come up to us, he would politely tell them he was going home, not once mentioning me in the equation.

A thought struck me as he opened the door to a black Hyundai. I noticed some letters on the back of the car when we walked up, spelling the word 'Tiburon'. It was a nice car, grey upholstery and black polished paint on the outside. It looked sporty, but elegant at the same time.

Sokka was a gentleman.

He hurried to the driver's side of the car, opening it quickly before getting in himself. It was for the first time I noticed what he was wearing as he slid in. Dark blue jeans hung loosely on his hips—they weren't baggy, they were just loose—and a grey jacket with black stripes covered his dark shirt. He had nice attire, not like some of those gangsters I saw dancing.

I rubbed my hands together for warmth, giving me a reason to look down at my own clothes. I must look really gothic—what with my black skinny jeans and dark green sweater. My black hair hung over my eyes, trailing long strands onto my blue shirt. My jacket was zipped halfway, so some of the cold seeped into my skin. I zipped it up and actually rubbed my hands together for warmth this time, not an excuse.

Sokka saw this and quickly put on the heater. I saw him shivering in the corner of my vision and smiled. He was cold too, so I wasn't going to be the only reason for him to waste his gas. Pulling out of the parking lot, Sokka drove quickly into the night, the obtrusive street lamps shining lightly onto us as we sped along.

"Why are you driving so fast?"

Sokka chuckled darkly and punched the gas pedal. "You obviously don't come to LA often. This isn't exactly the peachy-est of places, you know. The sooner we get out of here the better."

I looked warily out the window. I couldn't see anything besides the faint glow of the street lamps, and even then they were starting to string together from our speed.

"Aren't you afraid we'll crash?" I wasn't worried myself. At least I got to be with someone if I died.

"Nah, no one's out at this time of night. You still need to tell me where you live," he pointed out as he slowed to a stop at a stop light.

"Oh, um. I live in Bakersfield."

Sokka did a double-take as he turned the corner, heading for the freeway, I presumed. "Bakersfield? How did you get down here if you live that far away?"

"I walked." I stated simply. Why was it such a big deal?

"You... walked?" His tone was incredulous, disbelieving.

"Yes, I walked."

His fingers drummed onto the steering wheel as we merged onto a freeway. A sign that lit up when our headlights past it said that it was the 5 freeway. Presuming we didn't get caught up in traffic, it would be an hour and a half drive. I suddenly felt bad for wasting this guy's night.

"I'm sorry, you don't have to take me," I said. "You can drop me off right here," I pointed to the side of the road, where dirt mounds and a tall hill dragged across. Skeleton bushes littered in no apparent order among the dirt, and boulders were everywhere in sight where you could see them.

"Are you kidding me? There's no way I'm going to pass this up. I've wanted to get out of the city anyway, even if it was for something like this." He glanced at me from the corner of his eye. "Thanks, by the way. I owe you one for getting me out of there. The least I could do is take you home."

I stared at him. "At 11 o'clock at night?"

He grinned his goofy grin and shook his head. "Look, before I saw you, I was debating whether or not I should just up and leave LA for a small drive." He clicked his tongue, "weird how I got it anyway, even after we met."

I raised my eyebrows. "You do realize this is a much longer drive then you originally wanted, yes?"

Sokka looked at me. "Actually this is perfect. I didn't want to go too far or too short of a drive. You can only put up with so much of people dying, gangs, parties, drunks, and idiots who want to kill you, you know?" He winked.

My heart stopped for a moment... "_Is_ there someone trying to kill you?"

Sokka's head pitched back and laughed. My hands gripped the seat when he turned his attention away from the road, but I slowly relaxed when I saw that we basically owned the highway right now. No cars were in sight, we were officially alone.

"Nah, there isn't. I promise,"

The next half hour were spent with him trying to say jokes and get me to laugh while I poked fun at him. He told me, along the way, that he had a sister named Katara—weird family names—who was dating a boy named Aang. At least I could understand that name.

"So is he Asian too?" I joked.

"No, actually he's not. Aang's white, but his family is Buddhist, so they named him Aang." I nodded my head like I understood what he meant. I didn't, but I didn't exactly want him to explain his theory. There would be a word that might slip up and make me angry. I might not be full-Asian, but racial issues didn't exactly appeal to me.

"So what about you? You have any brothers or sisters?"

"Nope. I'm an only child."

Sokka looked warily at me. "And do your parents know where you've been?"

I snorted. "My parents wouldn't like it if I walked down the street to the grocery store. Nah, I had to sneak out to get down here."

Sokka was silent for a while. I wondered if what I had said offended him, though I don't know why it would. "Don't you think they're scare right now? How long have you been out?"

I thought for a while. "Yeah... yeah they would. But you should see how my life was. I had to get away, I _had_ to."

Sokka pressed on. "Toph, how long have you been away from home for?"

My hands twiddled in my lap from shame. "About 2 days." I muttered, looking out the window.

"Toph, you can't do that!" His voice rose, but he didn't yell. "Do you have any idea how badly your parents feel right now? How could you do that to them?"

My own voice rose. "You don't know anything! If you saw what my life was like, what I had to go through everyday, you'd understand how badly I needed to get away!"

"And just how bad was your life, Toph? Please, explain to me all of the gruesome details." His voice held extreme sarcasm, and he rolled his eyes.

I lowered my voice to a hiss. Sometimes, quiet was more deadly then loud. "My parents act as if I'm made of glass. They don't let me do anything on my own, always telling a security guard to follow me. I never have any free time—everything is scheduled and laid out for me: when I wake up, when my lessons are, when to eat food, everything." I took a breath to steady my emotions. "I had to wear what they approved, how to act when I was at formal dinners, was punished for the smallest of inconsequential things, and I had obey them as if I was a dog on a leash."

All was quiet as Sokka took this in. I curled my body around the window, my teeth clenched and my arms folded. Now it seemed as if this car ride was taking too long instead of not long enough.

"You think that's bad?" Sokka muttered. "Try having a mom that died when you were only eight. Try having a father that went off to war and you had to take care of your baby sister while at your grandmother's house for seven years. Toph, your parents love you and want the best for you."

I stayed quiet as I absorbed this in. His mother died and his dad was in a war—I'm guessing it was in the Middle East. But the end sentence caught my attention. It wasn't the words that struck me, it was his tone. He was serious, and the way he said 'want the best for you,' implied that he also wanted the best for me.

Who was this boy? Why did he care?

"Why do you care?" I voiced aloud. Against my better judgment, I sounded depressed and sad instead of the tough and witty exterior I had put up.

"Because, Toph. I feel like I know you from a long time ago," I could understand that feeling. I felt as if we were long-lost best friends that finally reunited. "And, you know what? I could tell that you want to go back home. You're a good person and you'd never do anything that you wouldn't want to do."

Shocked silence filled my eardrums. A boy had just complimented me, but I had no retort or clever thing to say back. It was almost as if... as if Sokka had been destined to meet me. We could talk freely without having to worry what the other thought, even though we had only met about an hour before.

Unfortunately, Bakersfield was starting to converge upon us. The few houses that grew out of the ground were starting to become frequent. Sokka's driving gradually started to slow down as we inched along the highway and into the city limits.

"Where do you live?" His voice was dejected and sad, like he didn't want me to leave.

I pointed along a small road that intersected the freeway. Sokka turned down it and inched along the road at the correct speed limit. Houses and small green trees lined the street. In view was a couple of turn offs where a cul-de-sac would greet you.

"Listen," he said as I pointed down one such street. His car turned smoothly on it, and suddenly slowed down. "I know we haven't known each other for a long time, but," he took a deep breath through his nose, a trait I noticed whenever he was nervous. "Look, I need to see you again. I don't know why, or how, but I just need to. So," his hand fiddled with his jacket's zipper. "Do you think that maybe I could get your phone number, or something?"

I smiled. "Well you could have my microwave."

Sokka looked clueless at to what I just said. "What?"

I laughed; something to conceal my inner nervousness. "Well you said _or something_ so I was just wondering," I shrugged. Sokka shook his head, a grin spreading across his handsome face.

"So whaddaya say?" His eyes looked directly into mine, and I couldn't help but feel entirely safe with him. It was ridiculous how, earlier, I had been so afraid to get into the car with him. Now I didn't want to leave it, even though I wanted to see my parents.

"If I don't get my head chopped off when I walk through the doors, then yeah. Maybe you should give me your phone number, and when I get the chance I'll call you,"

Sokka's grin might as well have been another lamp from the intense white it brought on. His eyes were glowing with joy and relief that I hadn't turned the offer down. "Here," he handed me a piece of paper with a number and his name written on it.

"That's my cell. Make sure you don't call me before 2."

I raisedan eyebrow. "Why?"

He chuckled. "Because I'll be in school."

My mouth formed an 'O' as I folded the paper and stuffed it in my pocket. I unbuckled my seat belt and reached for the door handle, but paused before I opened it.

"Thank you, you know. For bringing me home. It was really cool meeting you," I opened the car door and shut it. The sound of a window rolling down caught my attention and I turned back to the car. Sokka was leaning across the passenger seat.

"You too! I'll hear from you later?" The deep blue eyes widened with the thought that I might not call him. I felt the need to extinguish the fear—a silly feeling, but yet so necessary.

"Don't worry. You'll hear from me as soon as I can call," presuming my parents don't take away phone privileges, I'll be calling him tomorrow.

"Okay. Bye, Toph." His large hand waved at me.

I smiled a genuine smile. "Bye, Sokka," And with that I marched up my wet lawn, having just been coated with a healthy layer of water from the sprinklers. The white house loomed in front of me, almost like a cage. But I was eager to get back inside, to call Sokka as soon as possible. This feeling I got whenever I thought of him was indescribable, but I found that I didn't mind it.

I didn't mind that Sokka had met me.

I didn't mind that Sokka had acted protectively when I was about to leave the skate park.

I didn't mind that he drove me home or asked questions.

I didn't care that as I stood in front of my door, he was still waiting for me to enter the house safely.

In fact, I wanted him to ask more questions, to open up to me and give me the chance to open up to him. Sokka was one of those rare gems you find only once in your lifetime. They never reappear again, and then you grow angry with yourself for ever losing it when you grow older.

Sokka was a gentleman that wanted to see me again. And, I'll admit it; I wanted to see him too.

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**Authoress Note: **Happy birthday, Lids.


End file.
